


Dreams Lost and Found

by TheRealFailWhale



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bonding, Caves, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluffy, Gigolas - Freeform, Lothlórien, M/M, SO FLUFFY, Sam and Frodo are also a thing in this, So many Trees, Swimming, but not in trees, it's like 66 years old, make out sessions, spoilers for fellowship but come on, switching POV, very vague Merry and Pippin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealFailWhale/pseuds/TheRealFailWhale
Summary: After losing a member of their fellowship in Moria, the remaining eight members take refuge in Lothlorien. While recovering in the golden wood, two of them find comfort in a surprising source.Spoilers for LOTR, but like...
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 25
Kudos: 121





	1. Mourning the Grey Pilgrim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Gigolas/Legimli so freaking much and have been wanting a soft and fluffy M/M romance lately, so I smushed two of the things I love most together and voila. It's coming out way longer than I thought at first, so buckle up.

Legolas stepped lightly through the gray boles of the  _ mallorn _ trees that filled Lothlorien. The earth was dappled with a gentle light, made silvery by the bark that surrounded him. From far off, he could hear the voices of his distant kin singing their songs of mourning for Mithrandir. His heart ached at hearing them express the sadness that still coursed through him, and likely would remain with him for years to come. The loss of a mortal life, though sad, was expected, and easier to grieve for than one such as Mithrandir. For an istari such as him, death was a greater shock than even the loss of a fellow elf.

When Legolas could no longer hear the songs of his cousins, he set his back to a  _ mallorn _ and slid to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He had never known loss like this before. The passing of his mother to the halls of Mandos happened when he was too young to feel the pain of it, though his father had never quite been the same. But Legolas had known Mithrandir, Gandalf, for many long years and had expected to see him one day in Valinor. Did istari pass to the realm of Mandos as well, like elves whose lives were cut short? Or did some other fate await them beyond the white shores?

He dragged a hand against the forest floor, feeling the unfamiliar dirt pass through his fingers. How he longed to be among the trees of Mirkwood, among the green leaves that would be turning to yellow as the winds of winter changed course. He found little comfort here, though the Galadhrim were welcoming enough. Of the fellowship, Aragorn would understand his pain for he had been close to Mithrandir as well, but the man was working to arrange their travel out of Lorien and had yet to make time for him. So he sat alone among the beautiful yet cold gray trees, and allowed his mind to dwell on memories of Gandalf.

Perhaps an hour had passed when he heard the footfalls of someone else approaching the place he sat. Their steps were too heavy for an elf. Had Aragorn come to find him and lend what comfort he could? But as the footsteps grew closer, Legolas identified whose weight they likely belonged to. 

He sighed and closed his eyes as the dwarf became visible through the trees.

“Oh,” Gimli grunted when he caught sight of Legolas. Legolas kept his eyes shut as the dwarf shifted his feet. “Didn’t realize you were this far out, laddie.”

“I’m older than you,” Legolas reminded him wearily, though there was no real point to bringing this up with the dwarf. He had tried before now and the epithet had not disappeared.

“Aye, but it’s easy to forget that with a face like yours,” Gimli replied roughly, and Legolas heard the dwarf walk closer. As twigs snapped and dirt whispered against the ground, he realized that Gimli was sitting down not far from him.

“What is a face like mine?” Legolas asked, eyes still closed. He didn’t need to see the dwarf, not when the dwarf was now a witness to his mourning.

A pause followed his words, accompanied by the sounds of Gimli shifting. “Young,” he said finally. “And too pretty for its own good.”

Legolas opened his eyes and looked at Gimli, who was seated some ten feet away against the trunk of another tree. He had cast off his armor and weapons and wore a simple tunic and breeches that gave him a softer look. It also appeared that Gimli had taken advantage of elven hospitality and bathed, for his hair and beard were clean and damp.

“And so you call me ‘laddie’?” When Gimli responded with a shrug, Legolas sighed. “I prefer it when you call me ‘elf.’”

“Fine. What are you doing out here, elf?” The dwarf glared at him, though the effect was lessened somewhat by the amusing sight of the dwarf’s short legs stretched out on the ground.

“I wanted to be alone,” Legolas admitted, gazing up at the canopy. “Lorien is beautiful, but rather cold. The silence here lets me pretend, at least a little, that I am among the trees of my home.”

Gimli’s reply was more rustling of dirt and Legolas looked down to see the dwarf clambering off the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Legolas asked, forgetting what he’d said.

“You want to be alone? I won’t bother you.” Did Gimli’s gruff voice cover a trace of regret?

Before the dwarf had taken three steps, Legolas called, “You don’t have to leave. To be honest,” and he took a breath before continuing, “I am perhaps too alone out here. Stay, if you like.”

Gimli paused before grunting and resuming his seat against the tree, though it looked more like a careful collapse than taking a seat.

“Why are you out here?” Legolas asked curiously. He had not thought that Gimli appreciated, or even liked, trees or forests.

“Aragorn sent me to find you,” Gimli answered, as he settled to braiding his beard. “Thought you shouldn’t be alone if you’re mourning the wizard.”

“And he sent you?” Legolas found this hard to believe. Aragorn was well aware of their antagonistic relationship.

The dwarf shrugged. “The hobbits are taking care of each other and Boromir is nervous just being here. Aragorn himself is still working with the Lady’s people for getting us out of here. Which can’t come too soon,” he ended with a mutter.

Legolas smiled. “You don’t like the woods, do you, Gimli?”

“That I do not,” the dwarf confirmed with a vigorous nod. “Give me a comfortable cave with good stone and good food, that’s what I like. All this tree business…” and he shuddered.

“You must have been quite sad to learn of the loss of your kinsman.” Legolas had not had time to give much thought to this probability in their rush to escape Moria.

It was Gimli’s turn to heave a great sigh, and Legolas could see a shine in the dwarf’s eyes that spoke of tears.

“Aye, la--Legolas. That I was.” He stared up at the leaves above, frowned, and looked back to the ground. “My father would tell me stories of the wonders of Moria, and of Balin’s bravery in returning. Its magnificence is still there, but without a dwarf to hone and appreciate the beauty, what is it but a--a mine?”

“A place doesn’t lose its purpose simply because no one is there to put it to use,” Legolas offered after a moment of silence between them. “A forest is still a forest without elves, or creatures.”

“But is a building a home with no one to call it such?” Gimli countered, voice thick with emotion. He stared across the distance and met Legolas’ gaze. “I understand what you mean to say, elf, but you can’t stop me from mourning Khazad-dum.”

“That was not my purpose, dwarf,” Legolas replied, a little frustrated that his point was lost on the other.

“Then what  _ did  _ you mean?”

“Just that you don’t need to give up hope. If our fellowship is successful, Moria could be reclaimed, the goblins driven out.”

“And the beast of shadow and flame?” Gimli asked harshly, cheeks turning red with anger.

Legolas hesitated. He knew the songs of Morgoth’s balrogs, the destruction they wrought. If Mithrandir could not turn the balrog aside, could anything?

“I do not know,” Legolas finally admitted. “It fell with Mithrandir, but I do not know if that is enough to defeat it. They are formidable foes.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Gimli grunted. With Legolas’ admission that the hope he offered was flawed, the dwarf seemed to calm slightly. He resumed braiding his beard. “Anyway, the loss of Moria, though it will give me pain for many years to come, is no more immediate than Gandalf’s death.”

Legolas sighed and rested his head on his knees.

“You were close to the wizard?” Gimli asked with some trepidation.

“As close as many, I assume. He had more dealings with the elves of Rivendell than those in Mirkwood. But I knew him for many years.”

A few minutes passed in quiet, with only the sound of the  _ mallorn _ leaves rustling in the slight breeze. And then Legolas heard Gimli move once more, now closing the distance between their two trees. He looked up as Gimli collapsed down beside him, huffing awkwardly.

“What are you doing?” Legolas asked dumbly. He had not been this close to the dwarf outside of combat.

“Aragorn sent me to keep you company, and I can’t bloody do that from ten feet away,” Gimli grumbled, setting his back to the tree beside Legolas. “Now, you can talk if you want to or just sit there and mourn. I care not.”

Legolas couldn’t help a smile from creeping over his face at the dwarf’s gruff kindness. He leaned his head back against the bark and stared across the small clearing.

“So you think I’m pretty, do you?” Legolas teased lightly, not wishing to discuss Gandalf but not wanting to sit in silence either.

Gimli snorted. “Of course you’d focus on  _ that _ , you preening elf.”

“You’re the one who said it,” Legolas pointed out.

“More for the hilarity of it than anything else.”

“So you  _ don’t  _ think I’m pretty?”

“I never said that.”

“But you don’t want to say it again?”

“I’m only here because Aragorn told me to come,” Gimli growled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“You are beginning to grate on my nerves,  _ laddie _ ,” Gimli said, turning to face Legolas who was now grinning.

“And you are beginning to alleviate mine, Gimli,” he said gently, hoping his earnestness showed on his face. “I am glad Aragorn sent you to keep me company.”

Gimli lost his look of annoyance and let his expression fall to pensive. “You know, you’re not so high and mighty as you make out, for a princeling.”

Legolas rolled his eyes. “I am a prince by birth, perhaps, but it’s little more than an honorary position. My father will rule until he returns to the west, and I will likely be with him when he does.”

“So what do you get out of being an elvish prince, then?”

Legolas shrugged, a movement that made Gimli snort with laughter again. “Freedom, I suppose. Opportunity. When Elrond sent word of the council, my father asked me to join over others in his court.”

“And now you’re stuck on this dangerous mission of certain doom,” Gimli chortled, still watching Legolas.

“Not  _ certain _ ,” Legolas smiled. “But I am also traveling with a fellowship of worthy companions, who will likely become my greatest friends before the end.”

Gimli’s face flushed and he grumbled incoherently as he turned from Legolas to face the clearing again. But Legolas stood up in a fluid movement and held a hand down to Gimli.

“Would you walk with me? I understand that Moria is painful to hear of right now, but perhaps I can distract you with the wonders of the wood of Lothlorien.”

The dwarf squinted up at him, expression hidden behind his bushy eyebrows and beard. Legolas felt a brief desire to squirm under the scrutiny, but then Gimli stood and shook Legolas’ hand.

“Aye, l-Legolas,” Gimli nodded as his warm hand gripped the elf’s. “There’s naught else to do in this forest, so you might as well give me the tour.”


	2. Veins of Gold

Gimli followed Legolas through Lothlorien for the next few hours, often failing to hide his disinterest with trees but staying with him nonetheless. If Legolas didn’t want to be around the others as he grieved for the wizard, Gimli didn’t want to face their companions (or the Galadhrim) as his mind dwelt on Moria.

But as he walked beside Legolas, he found the pain in his heart lessening, the knot of despair easing as the elf showed him the signs of wildlife in the forest, or pointed out the various tree buildings the elves had made for keeping watch in their land. He could--very grudgingly--admit that there was some beauty to the gray trunks and golden leaves. Gray like caves and yellow like gold. Yes, there was beauty here that Gimli could recognize, but as they walked he realized that it wasn’t just in the trees.

When Legolas talked about the  _ mallorn _ trees, his eyes shined with respect and awe, and his love for the trees found its way through Gimli’s focused indifference. When Legolas picked up a fallen leaf and showed it carefully to Gimli, pointing out the veins that ran through it and comparing it to veins of gold ore, Gimli felt his heart swell with a new tension, one he had not felt often. To see the elf make such an effort to share the beauty of the forest with him moved him more than he could have expected.

Once, they were close enough to a passing company of Galadhrim and could hear their voices raised in song. From the tenor of the melody and the way Legolas’ face grew quiet, Gimli guessed it was another song of mourning. He saw the elf clench his fist and before he could think too deeply on it, Gimli reached out and took Legolas’ hand in his own.

The elf’s hand was more slender than his, of course, but where Gimli expected a softness that reflected Legolas’ pretty face, he found instead muscle and calluses that matched his own. Legolas looked down at him, bewildered for a moment, and then clasped Gimli’s hand in return as a smile graced his lips.

“You are pretty,” Gimli muttered, looking away but keeping hold of Legolas’ hand.

This only made the elf grin more widely, his sadness retreating back inside, though Gimli refused to return the expression.

They had been away from their fellowship for almost four hours, wandering through the grey trees. Their hands stayed entwined for the final hour of their exploration, and only when they could once again see the lights in the trees did Gimli release Legolas’ hand. Part of him regretted doing so, but surrounded by elves was not a place Gimli wanted to let his guard down and holding the hand of an elf was next to sleeping weaponless in terms of weakness for a dwarf.

As they returned to the area that had been allotted to them for their stay in Lorien, Pippin hailed them.

“Welcome back, you two,” he said, without his usual chipper demeanor. The loss of the wizard had hit the hobbits hard as well. “You missed them bringing us food. No shared meals tonight like in Rivendell.”

“Good,” Gimli grumbled, putting on his terse habit again as he settled into a seated position near the food. “I’ve had enough time with elves for a while.”

Legolas, who settled across from him next to Merry, arched a brow but said nothing as Gimli scowled back at him, feeling a blush cover his cheeks once more.

Their meal was quiet. Frodo and Sam, and Merry and Pippin were seated close to each other, taking comfort in the presence of their loved ones. Only Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas were left to sit and grieve alone, and soon it was just Gimli and Legolas as Boromir went off to his bedroll shortly after he finished eating. The hobbits followed soon after, the two pairs curling up close rather than separate and lose that contact.

Gimli watched Legolas across the small fire as the elf stared into the flames. Sorrowful voices still filled the trees around them and with each passing verse, Legolas looked more and more lost in grief.

“Bloody elves, never knowing when to stop bloody singing,” Gimli growled quietly as he got up and stomped around the fire to where Legolas sat. He all but threw himself onto the ground beside the elf, who turned his head in surprise. “I can’t just leave you be when you’re practically weeping into the fire. Hand.”

Legolas only looked at Gimli in confusion, and the dwarf sighed heavily and reached into Legolas’ lap to pull the elf’s hand into his own. “If you mention this to anyone, it’ll never happen again,” Gimli muttered, pointedly turning his gaze back to the fire.

“Thank you, Gimli,” Legolas said warmly, curling his fingers around the dwarf’s. “And I promise, not a word.”

There was the sound of footsteps approaching their little nook of the city and Legolas covered their hands with his cloak. Gimli was glad of this, though he wouldn’t admit it, because it let him continue to feel the elf close to him.

Aragorn stepped quietly up to their fire and sat tiredly on the ground. “Haldir said there would be food…?” he asked, and Gimli used his free hand to point at the easy food the elves had provided. Aragorn eagerly grabbed bread and cheese and set about devouring it.

Gimli and Legolas watched him eat, Legolas still forlorn from the music and Gimli torn between asking questions and remaining silent with the elf’s hand in his.

“The lady says it will be some days before we can leave,” Aragorn explained as he ate. “I’m not sure what she’s waiting on, but--” He shrugged.

“Lady Galadriel is gifted with great wisdom,” Legolas said when Gimli grunted. “If she does not think we should leave, she has her reasons.”

“I’m glad Gimli found you, Legolas,” Aragorn said a few minutes later. “I worried when you could not be found this afternoon.”

“I needed time,” Legolas replied simply. “But yes, Gimli found me and gave what comfort he could.”

Gimli almost jumped when Legolas brushed a thumb over his as he spoke, and he grumbled into his beard.

Aragorn took this to be a complaint, and said, “Come now, Gimli. You mean to say after everything we’ve been through that you can’t stand Legolas’ company for a few hours?”

Gimli gave a noncommittal growl and refused to look at Aragorn, even as Legolas continued to stroke his hand beneath the cloak. The dwarf refused to consider that the glint in Aragorn’s eye might indicate that the ranger saw more than he was saying aloud.

“Either way,” Aragorn went on, looking as though he fought back a smile. “I hope that you can lose some of your prejudice against elves while we’re here, Gimli. The Galadhrim are good folk.”

Sensing that Aragorn was teasing him, Gimli released Legolas’ hand and stood up, announcing, “I’m turning in.”

And indeed he did, rolling himself into his blankets and facing away from the fire so he wouldn’t see the elf.


	3. For a Friend

Legolas rested in the fashion of elves and so was alert at dawn when Gimli woke and staggered to the banked fire.

“Good morning, Gimli,” Legolas said quietly, and he startled into a laugh when Gimli spun around wildly at the greeting, hand flying to his belt. Where there were no axes.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Legolas laughed gently. Gimli flushed with embarrassment and poured a goblet of water from the pitcher Legolas had filled the night before.

“I wasn’t frightened,” grunted the dwarf. He’d slept in his tunic and breeches from the day before, and his carefully braided beard was ruffled from sleep.

“As we are not to leave yet, would you walk with me again?” Legolas asked, believing that Gimli would say yes but not looking his way, leaving the dwarf space to think. Or say no.

“Nothing else to do around here,” Gimli grumbled, smoothing down his beard. “I’ll fetch my boots.”

Legolas waited as Gimli gathered his things, and stood when the dwarf came to his side. “Shall we?” he asked, even as he set out in more or less the same direction they’d walked yesterday.

“What are you showing me today?” His voice was mostly gruff, but Legolas heard the curiosity there, and he smiled.

“Something I think you will enjoy, Gimli,” was all Legolas replied and he continued to make a path away from the elven city as Gimli grumbled under his breath.

When they were far enough out to no longer hear elvish song, Legolas allowed himself to reach down and take Gimli’s hand. He felt the dwarf twitch in surprise but he did not let go. They walked in silence, hand in hand, through the gentle morning light as Legolas led them toward his destination.

“What’s in the pack?” Gimli asked a few minutes later, gesturing to the bag slung over Legolas’ shoulder.

“I assumed you would get hungry at some point, and took the liberty of bringing along food.”

“Hmph.”

Several more minutes of walking.

“When will we get there?”

“Another hour, I think.”

“Better be worth it.”

“I think you will enjoy it,” Legolas repeated with a smile, and looking down he saw that Gimli was matching the expression though it was difficult to see beneath his beard. “It’s something one of the Galadhrim told me about last night.”

Legolas had actually gone to find a helpful elf while his companions slept, wanting to know if what he was looking for could be found in Lothlorien. The elf had given him a strange look but answered all his questions. When asked why he wanted to find such a thing, Legolas had answered, “For a friend.”

For that’s what he felt Gimli was becoming. They each held a pain close to their hearts, one for an impossible loss and the other for the loss of a treasured dream. Neither were particularly effusive, and without Aragorn to speak with, Legolas felt there was no one in the party he could share his pain with. The hobbits, though deeply grieved, did not, he felt, feel the loss of Gandalf as strikingly as he did. They knew Gandalf was a kindly old wizard, but they did not realize how monumental his passing truly was. It was one thing to choose to find the white shores, but to have that journey thrust upon you lessened the joy of it. Or so Legolas supposed, as it was how he would feel if made to go to Valinor before he was ready.

Their losses were different, elf and dwarf, but both were forced to confront a future that neither had expected.

At last, Legolas could hear the sound of water, which the Galadhrim had told him was a sign of his destination. “This way,” he said to Gimli, gently tugging the dwarf’s hand.

“You don’t have to lead me like I’m a child,” Gimli complained, but quietly and without real force.

They pushed through some great flowering bushes that were turning to gold like the leaves above, and the sound of water grew louder.

“Are you planning to make me swim?” Gimli asked dubiously, glancing down at his clothes.

Legolas laughed and reflexively squeezed the dwarf’s hand. “Just look,” he said as he pushed aside the branches of another bush, and he gestured ahead.

Laid out before them was a large pool of clear water that reflected the blue of the sky and yellow of the  _ mallorn _ leaves. The trees crowded close to the water’s edge, with roots poking through the surface here and there. The rocky bed of the pond was visible across the breadth of the pond, and on the opposite side from where they stood was a great cluster of jutting rocks. From their place they could see a small, dark cleft in the stone, hinting at a cave of some sort.

“Here we are,” Legolas said softly, watching with delight as Gimli recognized the rocks for what they hid. The dwarf’s eyes lit up with surprise and a gleeful smile stole over his face.

“You found me a cave,” Gimli said hoarsely, hand tightening on the elf’s. “I did not expect to find one in this forest.”

“That is why I asked. You accompanied me on a long walk yesterday, indulging me as I took in the beauty of the  _ mallorn _ . It seemed only fair to find a beauty more to your liking.”

Gimli’s hand was almost too tight on his, but abruptly he let go and began removing his clothes.

“I thought you didn’t want to swim,” Legolas said bemusedly as the dwarf tossed his shirt to the ground, revealing a muscular chest covered with thick reddish-brown hair. It was quite different from Legolas’ own smooth chest, and he found himself wondering what it felt like.

“Never said that,” Gimli replied as he hopped on one foot, then the other to remove his boots. Taking off his breeches, he went on, “Too far to walk around this pond, so I’m taking a shortcut to that cave.”

Gimli pulled off the last of his clothes, leaving him completely nude. His eyes glinted wickedly, and with a grin he whirled and dove into the water.

Legolas laughed as the hairy dwarf splashed his way across the gold-dappled water, making quicker work through the pond than around it. Legolas picked up Gimli’s discarded clothes and ran lightly around the shore, reaching the other side as Gimli emerged dripping, slipping a little on the slick rocks. His hair and beard were pressed down on his head and chest, the beard blending in with the hair across his muscles. Legolas did his best to keep his eyes chastley on the dwarf’s face but with his height it was difficult to keep...other things out of his line of sight.

“It wouldn’t have taken that long to walk around,” Legolas pointed out as he handed Gimli his clothes.

The dwarf laughed as he pulled them on, sounding happier than Legolas had heard him since they entered Moria. “I would also have missed the opportunity to swim. It may seem odd, but we dwarves like the water. Lots of lakes underground, you know.”

“Shall we, then?” Legolas asked, nodding toward the cleft in the rocks. With a wide grin, Gimli stomped toward the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm making Legolas dwell on Valinor a lot, but I feel like Gandalf dying is 1) a huge freaking deal and 2) Legolas probably hasn't seen too many people around him die? We have no idea how old he is exactly, so I sort of choose to think that he was born sometime after Sauron's initial defeat at the end of the Second Age, putting him over 1,000, but not old enough to really have seen the deaths that occurred during that war. I feel like that relative youth (only 1000? what a baby) would explain some of his less than grand behaviors (like the shooting contest, which I love but I don't see Elrond doing that, yo).


	4. The Cave and Pond

From what Gimli could tell, the cave was old. He did not see signs of picks, and was pleased all the more to know that it was a natural formation. He had to squeeze through the opening in the rocks, but heard Legolas mutter in elvish when he had to bend down to follow Gimli. The sound made him grin and he pressed on until the stone widened before him into a small, dim cave.

Looking up, he saw that the rocks that formed this cave were not airtight, and some fresh air and light made their way in through a gap overhead. As his eyes quickly adjusted to the relative darkness, he saw that they were not the first to use this cave. It was neat, as though whoever had been here last had taken the time to sweep away dirt and loose rocks. There was still lichen crawling down the walls, and bits of moss in the crevices, but there was also a small bundle of sticks propped against the stone next to the entrance. Gimli saw that there was a stone fire ring, suggesting that someone else made regular use of the cave. 

“Let’s have some more light,” he said eagerly, and grabbed the bundle to begin setting up a fire.

Legolas dropped the pack and settled down next to the fire ring, watching as Gimli enthusiastically set about starting it. It wasn’t long before the dwarf had a small blaze going, lending a cheery glow to the cave.

Gimli sat back and watched the flames dance on the sticks, a feeling of peace coming over him. He let his eyes close and breathed deeply, relishing the clean scent of stone and the warmth of the fire on his drying skin. He heard Legolas moving around, and looked over to see the elf now settling himself just beside Gimli. Legolas smiled and pulled open the pack he’d brought, passing Gimli a loaf of bread and some cheese.

They ate quietly, each lost in thought. Gimli could feel himself relax further every moment, as the experience of being safe underground washed over him. He had not been in a comfortable stone space since before Rivendell, and while he knew he’d missed caves, he didn’t expect to feel such relief. 

His food finished, Gimli let his mind wander, simply glad to be in a familiar space once again.

“I trust you find this worth the walk?” Legolas asked, voice altered by the close cave.

Turning to face the elf, Gimli scoffed. “I would have walked for many more hours had I known this is where you were leading me. You have my thanks, Legolas.”

And he meant it. That Legolas would go out of his way to find such a cave for the sole purpose of pleasing Gimli warmed his heart, even if the act of kindness surprised him.

“May it bring you some peace,” Legolas replied. He moved his hand so that it covered Gimli’s where it rested on the ground.

Legolas was very close to him now, and sitting as they were their faces were on a level. This allowed Gimli to see that Legolas' eyes were now gray. He had seen them blue, green, and almost brown throughout their trek from Rivendell. As far as he could tell, the elf’s mood had as much influence on the color as their surroundings did.

“What are you thinking?” Gimli asked suddenly, and Legolas wasn’t alone in being taken aback. What possessed him to ask that?

After a small hesitation, Legolas said slowly, “I am thinking how glad I am that Aragorn sent you to find me yesterday. I wondered at first why he would send you--we have not been the best of friends, till recently.”

“Well, technically,” Gimli shifted his position and looked away from the elf’s light gray eyes. “Aragorn was going to ask one of the other elves to look for you, but I, hrm, volunteered.” He flicked his gaze to Legolas’ face and saw that the elf was starting to smile.

“You  _ wanted _ to go looking for me?” He asked, cocking his head to one side, and Gimli was struck by the way his blond hair fell over his shoulder.

“I mean, I didn’t think--that is I thought you might prefer,” Gimli stammered, not sure if he wanted to, or even could, explain why he’d offered to find him the day before.

Thankfully, Legolas seemed to take pity on him. Squeezing Gimli’s hand, he said, “Whatever your reason, I’m glad.”

“All I did was walk around and let you talk about leaves to me,” he responded gruffly, though he didn’t move his hand out from under Legolas’.

“You also called me pretty, which was amusing to hear.” Before Gimli could interrupt and defend himself in some way, Legolas laughingly held up a hand. “But it was your company that I liked the most. Your presence makes me feel…normal again. The pain from Mithrandir’s loss is still in me, but you, Gimli, remind me that not everything is lost.”

“Like what, for example?” Gimli asked, watching as the gray of Legolas’ eyes lightened still further.

“Your friendship,” was the elf’s answer. “There are still things we can show each other, whether it’s a cave or a forest. Or,” and the smile that curled across his lips made Gimli feel like blushing. “A rather hairy chest.”

“Hmph. Peeking, were you?” Gimli asked, finally taking back his hand and crossing his arms.

Legolas laughed. “You didn’t make it difficult, Gimli. You undressed right in front of me with no warning.”

“Well, I was eager to get to this cave.”

“Perhaps you’re a bit of an exhibitionist?” Legolas suggested slyly, still grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come now, Gimli, it wouldn’t have taken you that long to walk around the pond.”

“I didn’t want to wait! No one made you look, you blasted elf, you could have turned aside.” Gimli was beginning to feel slightly warm. He must have let the fire build too much for such a small space. He clambered to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Legolas asked in surprise.

“I’m getting sand for the fire,” he replied as he stomped out of the cave.

“Are we leaving already?”

As Gimli realized that without a bucket, he’d have to carry the sand into the cave by the handful, Legolas joined him on the bank. The sun was not yet to the midpoint, but as it rose the pond lit up with more sunshine, strengthening the reflection of the  _ mallorn  _ trees on the water’s surface.

“Nay, I’m not leaving, the fire’s just getting too hot. Go back inside, you bloody…” Gimli let his words drift away, because Legolas was taking off his boots. “What are you doing?”

“I think you’re right about the fire,” the elf answered, now drawing off his tunic and presenting Gimli with a faceful of pale muscle.

“And so you think getting naked is the solution?” As Legolas began pulling off his tight breeches, Gimli finally had to turn away, looking out across the water. For a moment he thought he glimpsed movement in the trees on the other side, but in an instant it was gone. Trick of the light, probably, or some sort of bird.

“I thought I would follow your example and go for a swim,” came the response from behind Gimli, but Legolas moved past him toward the water’s edge. Gimli was almost at the same height as the elf’s very pale arse, which--he couldn’t help noticing--was also very muscular.

He watched as Legolas braided his hair over one shoulder and then threw a smile at him. “Sorry I’m not covered in hair,” he said, and then he dove into the pond.

Gimli had never seen a naked elf before and found he couldn’t take his eyes off the one before him. Where Gimli was thick and hairy, Legolas was slender and smooth. But like when he’d taken the elf’s hand, he was surprised to see that Legolas was about as muscular as himself. He’d clearly never considered that while elves were beautiful and ancient, they lived and fought like any other beings. And Legolas  _ clearly _ fought. His arms were especially sculpted and Gimli watched as they cut through the water with sharp ease.

Legolas’ head broke the surface and the elf shook the water from his face, sending his braid spinning and forcing Gimli to confront the fact that Legolas wasn’t just pretty--he was  _ beautiful _ .

“You were right, Gimli,” the elf called to the shore as he stood up, leaving his groin tantalizingly close to the surface but not quite close enough to send him fully blushing. “The water is wonderful. Are you going to join me?” he asked as he squeezed water from his braid.

Gimli was fairly certain he was reading the elf’s cues correctly, but what if he was wrong? What if all this--the walks, the cave, the handholding--was just a way to share time while mourning, and not indicative of anything more?

Staring at Legolas as he stood dripping in the beautiful pond that he’d found for the dwarf, Gimli decided that it was worth the risk.

He didn’t answer Legolas, but began removing his clothes once more, gaze now focused on himself. In a few moments he was splashing into the water and watched as Legolas laughed and fell backward. Gimli wasn’t as tall as the elf and couldn’t stand in the same place without leaving his head underwater, so he carefully floated on his back, trying not to break the water’s surface too much with his lower body.

“Did you do this in your underground lakes?” Legolas’ voice was muffled, as Gimli’s ears were submerged in the pond, but combined with the brush of currents against his torso, he guessed that the elf wasn’t far.

“Aye, Legolas,” Gimli replied, his own voice sounding far away. “Though not with--” But he bit off his sentence, still hesitating on the edge of misunderstanding.

“Not with anyone so pretty?” Legolas teased, sending a gentle wave over Gimli’s chest.

Gimli righted himself and looked to see that Legolas was watching him with a smile. “You’ll never let that go, will you, elf?”

Legolas didn’t stand to tower over Gimli, but he floated so that they were once more at eye level together, and locked their gazes.

“Not when it’s so much fun to tease you, dwarf,” Legolas answered with a challenge in his voice.

Gimli narrowed his eyes, thinking. “Do you dare say that to me when we both have our feet under us?” he taunted, pushing back until he could stand on the rocky waterbed. Legolas followed and when he stood upright, Gimli was again facing that pale stomach. He glared up to the elf’s face.

“It is fun,” Legolas said slowly, enunciating clearly. “To tease you.  _ Dwarf _ .”

Gimli growled and seized the blond braid that dangled over the elf’s chest. As Legolas’ eyes widened, he pulled the elf down and brought their faces close together. He felt Legolas’ breath across his lips and heat stirred in his belly.

“You are not pretty,” Gimli growled, the hairs of his mustache twitching as they brushed against Legolas’ face. “You are beautiful.”

Before Legolas could reply, Gimli put one hand behind the elf’s head and kissed him.

Like everything else about Legolas, his lips surprised Gimli. They were soft and pliant beneath his, parting easily as he breathed his way past them. He dimly noted that the elf had floated off his feet and descended until they were even, but he did not let go of the braid. Instead, he wrapped it around his hand and used it to pull the elf’s head back until he could press kisses to the clear skin of his neck. He felt Legolas’ hands roaming over his back, one hand coming up to fist in his curly hair. The press of the elf’s body against his pushed the cool waters of the pond from between them and Gimli could feel that Legolas was as hot to the touch as was he. He brought their mouths together again, growling as Legolas ran fingers through the hair on his chest.

Their kisses lasted for several minutes before they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together as they breathed.

“I didn’t think you could stand my kind,” Legolas panted quietly, one hand rubbing the dwarf’s shoulder.

Gimli unwound Legolas’ braid from his hand and smoothed it down the elf’s back. “I can stand you, Legolas.”

Legolas grinned at that and pulled Gimli back in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've peeked at the other stuff I've written, I write a lot of smut. Like, almost primarily smut. But I'm trying to keep this one as PG-13 as possible and while it's a challenge I'm enjoying the sweeter side of this relationship.


	5. Rings

They spent the next few hours going between the water and the cave, Gimli keeping the small fire going to warm them inside, though they soon found other ways to warm each other. Legolas held back from acts that would bind him to Gimli irrevocably, but as the afternoon went on he began to see that such a union would not make him unhappy. He did not let himself dwell much on these thoughts, as he didn’t know Gimli’s feelings on the matter, but they hovered in his mind.

In the moments they tired of kissing, they lay together, hands clasped and watched the sun move across the sky. Gimli talked a little about the caves of his home, voice growing animated as he described the caverns of Erebor and the works within. In return, Legolas talked of his father’s hall in Mirkwood, thinking that Gimli would like its underground aspects. And he was right, for Gimli asked many questions about the Woodland Realm, even expressing a desire to see for himself the Elvenking’s seat. Legolas amused himself with imagining how his father would react if, or when, Legolas brought Gimli to visit. Thranduil was not overly fond of dwarves, and one who was descended from a former prisoner of the Greenwood would be an especial challenge to his father’s patience. 

Legolas did not worry about intrusions on their peace: the Galadhrim he’d asked during the night said that few ever sought the cave and its pond. As he’d said, there were other clearings in Lothlorien that elves favored more. But as the sun grew closer to the west, Legolas suggested they return to the city.

“Aye, I suppose it’s time,” Gimli sighed, reaching for his pile of clothes.

“We can return here tomorrow,” Legolas offered as he too dressed himself.

Gimli grinned. “I’d like that, though if there’s anything else in the forest you have a desire to show me, I’d see that, too.”

“Even if it’s not a pond or cave?” Legolas allowed his eyebrows to waggle, making the dwarf laugh.

“I suspect whatever you show me from here on out, I shall find a way to enjoy,” he returned, giving Legolas’ braid a playful tug and rising to his feet. “Come now, I need more than bread and cheese after all the swimming.”

Legolas gathered a new bundle of sticks as Gimli carefully extinguished the fire and returned the cave to the way they’d found it. Empty pack slung over his shoulder, he took Gimli’s hand and led the way back to Caras Galadhon. As the day before, he released the dwarf’s hand when they heard elven voices nearby.

When they reached their fellowship’s campsite, the hobbits greeted them with a little more cheer than before. Sam was seated on a log stool with Frodo seated in front of him, and Merry and Pippin were sharing a low log bench.

“Have you two been swimming?” Sam asked with an expression of horror, and Frodo laughed from his place between Sam’s knees.

“Do hobbits not swim?” Gimli dropped himself to the ground near Sam and Frodo, giving them a puzzled look.

“Not all hobbits,” Merry explained. He gestured at Sam. “Some folk, particularly those close to Hobbiton, don’t see the appeal of a nice swim on a hot day.”

“I don’t see the appeal of  _ drowning _ on a hot day,” Sam answered defensively as Frodo patted his foot calmly.

“Oh, you’d rather drown on a cold day?” Pippin shot at the gardener, making Sam blush and roll his eyes.

“To answer your question, Sam, yes, we did swim today. Just a little,” Legolas said with a sly wink at Gimli. “Think of it as taking a bath in a large tub.”

“Bathing together, were you?” Merry’s expression backed up the suggested lewdness in his voice, but Legolas only laughed.

“I shall go in search of something more than bread and cheese,” Legolas said with a nod toward the small table of food that stood behind the hobbits.

“See if there’s mushrooms!”

“Potatoes!”

“Definitely potatoes!”

The hobbits all chimed in with food requests and Legolas waved as he went off toward the kitchens. There were still songs of mourning being sung, but they were fewer today than yesterday. Legolas allowed himself to grieve on his walk, pulling himself back again when he arrived. He knocked before entering the kitchens and greeted the elves who were working inside.

“I’ve come to beg dinner for my companions and myself,” he said with a smile. “Do you happen to have potatoes or mushrooms?”

One of the elves nodded and set to gathering a basket for him to take back. As he waited, Legolas spotted the same elf who had told him about the cave, Faelor, and went to stand near him.

“I would like to thank you for telling me about the cave,” he said, offering his hand for the other to grasp. “My friend greatly enjoyed visiting it.”

“And did you enjoy the pond?” Faelor asked, squeezing Legolas’ forearm and offering him a knowing smile. Legolas felt a flicker of unease before he covered it with a return smile.

“Yes, we did,” he said easily. “The water was very cool and was refreshing after the trek there. As I said, you have my thanks.”

Faelor returned to the pastry he was making but before Legolas could walk away, he said, “I have not seen a friendship like yours and the dwarf’s before.”

Legolas frowned. “I imagine not. The Galadhrim are fairly isolated in Lothlorien. I guess you see very few dwarves pass by the edges of the wood.”

“True enough,” Faelor allowed with a nod. As he folded the dough he met Legolas’ eyes. “Will you exchange rings with him?”

“That is a very personal question, Faelor of Galadhon,” he replied, smile falling from his face. Legolas considered himself a friend to most, but did not appreciate the prying of this relative stranger.

Immediately, Faelor’s expression became contrite and he left off with his dough. “Forgive me, Legolas Greenleaf,” the elf apologized. “I only meant that--well, the attention you have been paying the dwarf has not gone unnoticed, and many of my kin are...concerned for your well-being. Perhaps it is as you say: we have little interaction with dwarves and do not know their natures. Many of us have only interacted with dwarves in the days before the last war.”

Legolas forced himself to relax as he realized why Faelor was asking these questions. But he didn’t have to answer. “I understand your concern. Excuse me, I must return to my friends.” He bowed slightly to Faelor and returned to the elf who’d gone to get food for him. He accepted the basket, thanked her, and left the kitchen, not looking at Faelor again.

Legolas hadn’t realized that anyone had seen them at the cave. He’d thought that they were enough out of the way that no one would pass by, but it seemed that Faelor, or one of his friends, had decided to drop by and see what Legolas wanted with such a place. As he walked back to the campsite, he asked himself the same questions Faelor had. Should he be concerned about sharing a relationship with Gimli? Would he even consider exchanging rings with a dwarf? Surely it was too soon to tell. There was nothing in what they’d done today that represented more in elven culture. His kind so rarely gave into lust, or felt it at all. The unions among elves that Legolas knew of were not outwardly passionate, though he had no idea what they did behind doors, and of course it would be beyond rude to ask. He had been intimate with a handful of other elves, but more from curiosity than a deep love. Was he only curious about Gimli?

When Legolas returned to his companions, Boromir and Aragorn were both waiting with Gimli and the hobbits around the small fire.

“Merry says you went in search of higher fare than we had yesterday,” Boromir said, raising a hand in greeting. Legolas thought the man looked pale, as though he had been ill, but resolved not to ask. He doubted Boromir would appreciate his concern.

“Indeed.” Even Legolas could tell that his voice was subdued, wrapped in thoughts as he was. He set the bag on their table of food, and announced, “I’m going for a walk,” before continuing out of their camp.

He heard them murmuring as he walked away, but did his best not to make out their words as he meandered into the trees.

It wasn’t just that Legolas had enjoyed his time with Gimli today. Though at first they’d been at odds, the result of Gimli’s distrust he thought, as they found ways to grieve together, Legolas began to see the ways in which they were similar. Both were fighters, proud in their skills. Each was from a family with a reputation of greatness, and from a culture that held strong opinions of the other. But they also felt deeply, as Legolas knew from talking with Gimli about Moria. And while Gimli could be stubborn, he tried to appreciate the things Legolas shared with him. 

When Legolas came out of his thoughts, he recognized that he was by the same tree he’d sat against yesterday.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

He looked around and found that Gimli was standing not far from him, though ahead of him. “How did you--”

“I came at it from the side, though I had to jog a bit to get ahead of you. You must have been thinking quite hard not to hear me panting through the trees,” Gimli observed as he made his way to Legolas.

“I was,” he said quietly, taking the hand that Gimli held out to him. The dwarf held his hand in both of his own, warming Legolas, who had not realized he was cold. “I thought you were hungry.”

Gimli indicated a bag on his shoulder and smiled. “I am. Eat with me?”

Legolas smiled and they sat down against a tree. He wasn’t very hungry, so Legolas let Gimli have most of the food, taking only some mushrooms for himself. Gimli asked more questions about Mirkwood, laughing as Legolas described hunting the giant spiders that roamed there.

“My father told me about those spiders, and how Bilbo rescued him,” Gimli chuckled. “Always liked that story. It’s part of why I wanted to meet Bilbo.”

“Is that why you came to the council?” Legolas asked, letting himself lean against the dwarf’s sturdy form.

Gimli fidgeted. “Well, I am--or was, anyway--not the most trusting when it came to elves. As I’m sure you noticed.”

“I did,” Legolas said with a smile. “Though you seem to have changed your opinion on at least one elf.”

In the fading light, Legolas saw Gimli blush. “To say the least, aye. Anyway, when my father told me that Elrond was summoning a council, I insisted I go along. He and Thorin didn’t let me go on Bilbo’s adventure, so I put my foot down this time.”

“I’m glad you did,” Legolas told him, sliding down the trunk until he could rest his head on Gimli’s.

Gimli put a hand on Legolas’ thigh and squeezed. “Agreed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #NotAllHobbits was an accident


	6. Sam's Curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's like two lines about the Silmarillion in this chapter, so if you need to read up on Galadriel (which I recommend because she's a badass) you should totally do it! that said, foreknowledge isn't necessary to the story.

They remained in the clearing for almost an hour before returning to their fellowship. As it wasn’t very late, their companions were still seated around the fire. Boromir was seated by Merry and Pippin, whom he’d taken a particular liking to thus far, and Aragorn was across from them smoking a pipe. Pippin was describing a time when he’d stolen one of Gandalf’s larger fireworks and set it off during a party. From the way Frodo laughed, the event was as humorous as Pippin made it sound. 

Frodo was seated very close to Sam, clearly still taking comfort in his...gardener’s? closeness. Now that Gimli considered it, he wasn’t sure what to call Sam. He supposed it didn’t really matter. From the way the two were always close to one another, Gimli understood that they were together. The affection they showed was not something Gimli was used to. Among the dwarves he knew, passionate or not, most outward signs of love were kept to the home, or even just the bedroom. He had noticed that Legolas never held his hand where anyone could see, which he supposed was because of his words the night before. He’d told Legolas that if anyone knew about their hand holding, he would never do it again.

But as he watched Frodo and Sam, he clearly saw how the pair felt toward each other. What would it be like to do something like that with someone Gimli cared about? With Legolas?

He sat down near Aragorn and Legolas joined him, not sitting as close as Sam and Frodo, but close enough that if Gimli decided to, he could take the elf’s hand.

“I hear the two of you went swimming today,” Boromir said once Pippin had finished recounting his memory. “Why did you not invite the rest of us?”

Gimli suppressed an awkward cough and Legolas spoke. “I thought Gimli would appreciate a familiar space where he could grieve. There was a pond, but our real destination was a cave. For such a situation, I felt the fewer companions the better. I would not have gone myself except I thought he might get lost.”

Legolas looked down at Gimli with a wide grin, and with narrowed eyes Gimli dug an elbow into the elf’s side.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was your purpose,” Boromir said, and he did look genuine. Like he believed Legolas.

In point of fact, Legolas was telling the truth. It was the look in Legolas’ eyes that made Gimli feel like blushing. He was not used to sharing space with a...an intimate partner without others’ knowledge, and he was somewhat surprised that Legolas was being cavalier. For an elf, anyway.

Gimli met Aragorn’s eyes and realized that if any of their companions had an inkling of what was going on, it was the ranger. There was a very small smile on his face, as though he was glad to see what was happening between them.

“Still no leaving?” Gimli grunted at him, wanting to move the topic away from his and Legolas’ activities.

Aragorn shook his head. “The Lady says not yet.”

“Why does she make us wait?” Boromir asked, fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

“She did not tell me, but I trust Lady Galadriel,” Aragorn said, and his expression suggested that Boromir should do the same.

“What are we supposed to do until we leave, then?” asked Merry, taking up a leftover baked potato and nibbling on it.

“Explore,” said Aragorn as he lit his pipe. “Lothlorien is safe with the Galadhrim patrolling it, and there are wondrous sights to be seen. Wouldn’t you agree, Gimli?”

Gimli, who had been taking a drink, spluttered into his goblet and choked a little. Legolas thumped him on the back.

“I mean, there’s a lot of bloody trees around, but it is a forest, so what do you expect…” he answered in as grumbly a voice as he could manage. Legolas had left his arm behind Gimli, appearing to lean back, but his thumb was touching Gimli. Presumably on purpose.

“What about that cave? And the pond?” asked Pippin excitedly. “That sounds quite nice. Legolas, could you take us there tomorrow?”

“By ‘us’ I assume you mean yourself and Merry,” said Frodo as Sam started to look alarmed at the mention of the pond. “Sam and I are glad to stay here and just view the city.”

“Sure, then, Merry and I, and maybe Boromir?” Pippin looked to the man, who looked a little apprehensive but nodded anyway.

Gimli felt Legolas tap his back in query. He cleared his throat.

“I think I could stand to see the cave again,” Gimli declared and scowled at Aragorn, who was smiling too knowingly for his liking.

“Very well then, Pippin.” Legolas smiled at the hobbit. “Tomorrow you shall have the chance to swim.”

As the two hobbits cheered and Boromir managed a smile, Sam, who had been whispering to Frodo, spoke up.

“Aragorn, I’ve been wonderin’ something,” said the gardener. “Sorry to change the subject, Mr. Pippin, but it’s been on my mind these past two days.”

“What is it, Sam?” Aragorn asked as he puffed on his pipe.

“Well, it’s about the Lady.” Sam looked somewhat awkward. “And her, uh, husband? Lord? I’m not sure what the elves call their partners…”

“Husband or wife, typically, though partner is common as well,” Legolas said, and Gimli suddenly felt the absence of his touch.

“Thank you, Mr. Legolas,” Sam blushed. “What I mean to ask is, well, does marriage work the same with elves as it does with hobbits?” He nodded to Boromir and Gimli. “Or Men and dwarves, for that matter.”

“Well, how does marriage work with hobbits?” Aragorn asked, and Merry and Pippin chuckled, though they were swiftly hushed with a sharp look from Frodo.

“Oh, well.” Sam blushed even harder. “When two hobbits love each other fierce and know that they’re going to live their lives together, they just--get married. There’s a big party with family and friends, and an official hobbit goes and pronounces them as being married.”

Gimli noticed, and suspected that Legolas and Aragorn did as well, that Sam did not so much as blink at Frodo during his explanation, which struck him as odd. Weren’t they partners?

“That’s usually how it works with humans,” said Boromir, rubbing his hands together and holding them out to the fire. “Sometimes people marry for money or power, but there’s marriages for love as well. And we also have official ceremonies.”

“Same with dwarves,” Gimli added.

“And elves?” Sam asked, as Aragorn fell into silence and looked broodingly at his smoke rings.

“It’s mostly the same,” Legolas replied, hands folding in his lap. “Though as we are very long-lived, we don’t enter into marriage lightly. Most elves wait until they have found the one they know is truly meant for them. Marriage can either be a formal exchange of rings, in front of both families, or a more...private ceremony can take place, after which--no matter what--the couple is considered married.”

“What sort of private ceremony?” Sam asked innocently, truly seeming not to guess the meaning behind Legolas’ words.

The elf smiled. “The sort of ceremony that is most often conducted with two individuals who love one another, and that no one else is typically privy to.”

Sam still looked confused. Pippin leaned over Merry and cupped a hand to his mouth.

“ _He’s talking about sex, Samwise_ ,” Pippin stage whispered, and he and Merry broke into laughter as Sam blushed so furiously that he hid his face in his hands as Frodo giggled and patted his back. Even Aragorn chuckled, pulled from his musings by the hobbits’ laughter.

Gimli glanced sideways at Legolas and saw that the elf was staring straight ahead, a smile on his face that didn’t match the seriousness of his eyes.

* * *

Gimli was restless that night, unable to find a comfortable position in his bedroll. The blankets were nice enough, of fine elven make, but the pit in his stomach made such comforts obsolete.

Sam’s questions about marriage had given him a new lens through which to look at the events of the day. Legolas had been an enthusiastic enough partner, but Gimli now understood why the elf had drawn back or ignored certain touches at times. Cut off as he was from elves in Erebor, Gimli hadn’t known anything about elvish marriage customs. But if going further than they had today would mean that Gimli and Legolas were married, he understood Legolas’ hesitation. At the time he’d chalked it up to inexperience, assuming that the elf, though older than he was, hadn’t done much in the way of sex. 

Gimli rolled over, fighting his pillow into a better shape. He lost.

He supposed he was grateful to Sam, actually. It would have been very awkward to have sex with Legolas only to find out afterward that they were married. Gimli had always assumed that he would spend most of his life adventuring, slaying goblins in mines and that sort of thing. Marriage had never entered into his plans.

Not that it mattered anyway. While they’d had fun at the pond, Gimli didn’t think that Legolas would want to marry him based on two days of comfortable company.

Gimli sighed, feeling slightly disappointed. “You don’t want to marry an elf, you bloody git,” he muttered to himself, turning over once again.

* * *

The next day, Merry and Pippin were up early. They both looked extremely eager to set out for the pond they’d heard about, and had already packed enough food for several suppers.

“We might want to stay all day,” Merry explained when Gimli asked who all they were planning to feed. “I haven’t been swimming in a long time. I’m not very good at it,” he admitted as Gimli pulled on his boots. “But that won’t stop me from enjoying it. I need a bit of joy right now.”

Gimli clapped the hobbit on the shoulder and went to stand near Legolas, who was waiting at the edge of their campsite for him, the hobbits, and Boromir.

“Good morning, Gimli,” Legolas said lightly, not looking down at him.

“Morning,” he grunted. There was a silence in which they listened to the hobbits rouse Boromir. “You all right?” he asked, following the elf’s lead in staring into the woods.

“Well enough.”

Gimli peeked up at Legolas, but was disappointed that he wasn’t peeking back.

“Hmph.”

“Let’s go then! Lead on, Legolas!” Merry chimed as the two hobbits and Boromir joined them at the treeline.

Legolas smiled at Merry, and without a word began leading them through the trees.

The journey today was far less pleasant than the day before. Even after they were far enough out from Caras Galadhon, Legolas didn’t take Gimli’s hand. Which he’d expected, accompanied as they were by the others, but he still found himself missing the feeling.

Merry and Pippin often roamed ahead, singing and laughing more and more as they went further into the woods. Boromir walked behind Gimli and was silent, apparently still absorbed in whatever had held his thoughts since they arrived in Lothlorien.

“There’s nothing to fear, you know,” Gimli said, dropping back to walk beside the man.

“What?” Boromir’s head jerked toward Gimli as though he hadn’t noticed the dwarf. “Oh. That is, I...understand that. It’s just, my people always told tales about the Lady of the Woods--”

“Mine as well,” Gimli interjected with a nod.

“Yes, and though she certainly isn’t as terrifying as I expected she is still...unnerving, I guess,” he finished lamely.

“She is at that. Most elves are, in my experience,” Gimli replied, noting that Legolas’ head twitched at his words. He suppressed a grin and continued, “They’re a difficult lot to read, as you probably noticed. One minute they’re singing merrily and the next they act as though you’ve arrived to steal their jewels, or harps, or whatever it is elves prize.”

Boromir glanced ahead at Legolas, but answered anyway. “I do find myself wondering at their intentions sometimes. I still don’t understand why the Lady won’t let us leave.”

Both Boromir and Gimli halted as Legolas turned around to face them, looking annoyed.

“Lady Galadriel has been alive for thousands of years. She has seen the light of the two trees, crossed the Grinding Ice, and survived more than you could understand. If she believes it is in our best interest to remain in Lothlorien for the time being, then she has very good reasons for doing so, and she is under no obligation to share them with you.”

It was the longest speech Gimli had heard from Legolas. He and Boromir stood dumbly as Legolas turned again, face still angry, and sped away from where they stood.

Gimli shook himself and took off after the elf, leaving Boromir to follow as he would. He saw Merry and Pippin still following Legolas’ path off to the side, and they were watching in confusion as Gimli chased after him.

“What’s wrong?” Pippin asked, moving to intercept Gimli, but the dwarf waved them away and carried on.

Legolas must’ve heard that Gimli was following, but he didn’t slow down until he reached the pond they’d visited yesterday. It was about a fifteen minute run and Gimli felt extremely winded when he finally thundered to a halt beside Legolas. He panted and bent over, holding up a finger to make Legolas wait.

“What?” Legolas asked, voice disinterested.

“Why the bloody hell did you run away?” Gimli gasped, feeling a stitch in his side. He was not made for such long runs.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the elf answered, still not looking at him. “I was leading you all here.”

“Don’t give me that rot,” Gimli said scathingly. He took Legolas’ arm and turned the elf to face him, though he still avoided Gimli’s eyes. Gimli crossed his arms and waited, knowing that the hobbits and Boromir would catch up soon.

Eventually, Legolas sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Do I unnerve you?” he asked.

“Unne--” Gimli started, but Legolas went on.

“Do you not trust me? Do you expect me to turn on you?” Legolas finally looked at him, and Gimli was shocked to see that he looked weary and almost...sad.

“Legolas,” Gimli said, reaching slowly to take the elf’s hand and clasping it when he didn’t resist. “I wasn’t being serious. Well, not entirely,” he amended when Legolas gave him a disbelieving look. “You’ve been rather cold since last night, and I’m not sure why. I thought teasing you about it might make you talk to me, but I see now that it wasn’t a very good idea.”

“What is it you want, Gimli?” Legolas said after a moment, hand still in Gimli’s.

“What do you mean?”

Legolas sighed again and looked out over the pond. “I guess I’m wondering if, if we should leave what happened yesterday in the past. You comforted me, and I you, and it needn’t be anything more.”

In a sudden rush, Gimli felt a crushing weight in his chest and almost staggered from the sensation. He instinctively clutched at Legolas’ hand, and the elf looked at him in some alarm.

“What is it?” he asked, eyes wide with concern.

“I don’t want that,” Gimli said hoarsely, and pulled Legolas down to his height, taking the elf’s face in his hands. “I want you,” he whispered as he stared into eyes that now flooded with gray and fear.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Legolas murmured, even as his hand brushed Gimli’s cheek. “We’ve had two days here, two days where we haven’t been at odds with each other.”

“Two days that have shown me what I never found among my own kin,” Gimli said, thumbs stroking Legolas’ cheekbones. “We have our differences, aye, and great they can be, but we are also more alike than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Legolas chuckled, and in answer to Gimli’s wondering look explained, “I was thinking the same thing earlier.”

“See?” Gimli felt full, the weight in his heart lifting and slowly being replaced with something else. Hope? He held the elf’s face firmly, staring into those gray eyes. “I want you, Legolas Greenleaf, and I’m starting to realize I’ll never want anyone as I want you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only looked up elvish marriage customs, so if the dwarves, men or hobbits have different customs I apologize for the inaccuracies!


	7. There is Time

“I’ll never want anyone as I want you.”

With those words, Legolas felt as though all his breath was taken away, leaving him a shell, only to be filled again when Gimli brought their lips together. He was on his knees in front of the dwarf, fingers curling in his hair as Gimli caressed his face and pressed sweet kisses to his mouth. The thoughts that had been whirling in his mind since last night, since his conversation with Faelor and then at the campsite, were starting to settle as he began to understand what he wanted.

He wanted Gimli. Not just for passion’s sake, though there was certainly an element of lust to his wanting, but because the dwarf made him feel more alive than anything else. All the elves he’d known throughout his life had been dim stars compared to the shining sun of Gimli, son of Gloin. He felt ready to bind himself to Gimli right then, to entwine their lives forever.

“Oh, my.”

Legolas and Gimli broke apart, and he turned to see that Merry, Pippin, and Boromir had finally caught up with them. All three were staring at the two of them pressed close together, faces flushed from kissing. He shakily got to his feet, but he held Gimli’s hand in his own.

“So,” said Legolas, a little breathlessly. “Here’s the pond.”

“Pond?” Pippin asked, eyes wide. Merry nudged him in the ribs, and Pippin started. “Right, the pond! The pond that we are all here to, erm, enjoy.”

Legolas looked at Boromir who looked equal parts dumbfounded and amused. The man coughed and came forward, beginning to undress. “Who wants to swim?” he asked, pulling off his tunic. “The water looks pleasant enough.”

“What about--” Pippin began, but Merry quickly began pulling off the other hobbit’s clothes. “Hey, Merry! What--”

“Come on, Pip, you were saying how ready you were to swim,” Merry said hurriedly as he dragged down Pippin’s trousers. “Let’s go then, clothes off.”

Pippin still looked confused but finished undressing, occasionally sneaking glances at Gimli and Legolas. Legolas felt the dwarf squeeze his hand, and when he met his eye, Legolas understood the unspoken message. 

_ Later _ .

He squeezed back, and began undressing as well, though leaving on his underclothes this time. 

Soon enough, Merry and Pippin were engaged in a water battle with Boromir, who was laughing uproariously as the hobbits splashed him mercilessly. Gimli waded in to join the fun, briefly taking Boromir’s side against the hobbits, until it was clear that the halflings were better at water antics. Legolas took it upon himself to come to Boromir’s rescue, and the two of them were soon sending waves over the smaller beings.

“Just a--phbbllt-- _ just a moment _ !” Gimli shouted around a faceful of water. “We need to strategize!”

Legolas and Boromir agreed to a truce, and Gimli turned aside to confer with the hobbits. Breathless with laughter, Legolas caught Boromir giving him a look. He shrugged.

“How long have you two been, uh, together?” Boromir asked awkwardly, ducking down to grab a stone from the pond bed.

“A very short time,” Legolas admitted, watching Boromir hurl the stone toward the trees. He missed the  _ mallorn _ , which Legolas thought a good thing.

“Have there been other unions of elves and dwarves?” the man asked, picking up another rock.

“I don’t think so.”

“Hmm.” Boromir threw his second stone, and barely missed a large gray tree. He winced and looked at Legolas. “Good luck,” he said, before turning to the dwarf and halflings again. “Are you fini--what are you doing!”

Legolas turned in time to see that Merry was somehow falling down into the water, and he dove aside, missing being splashed heavily in the face. When he came up, he saw that Pippin was climbing onto Gimli’s shoulders and realized that Merry must have jumped off the dwarf moments before. As Pippin sprang off Gimli, Legolas moved forward to grab Merry as he tried to splash over to Gimli again. He seized the hobbit around the middle and tossed him away from his co-conspirators. Boromir managed to catch Pippin in the air and tossed him the opposite direction, bellowing with laughter. Gimli’s laughter rang out as well, but Legolas launched himself at the hairy dwarf and tackled him into the water. Gimli tried to shove Legolas off, but they both rose above the water together and Gimli spluttered as he continued trying to heave Legolas off him. 

Legolas was laughing, but he heard Boromir making sure the hobbits were all right, and in that moment of joy his grief for Mithrandir was all but forgotten.

* * *

When they at last left the pond to return to Caras Galadhon, Legolas allowed himself to hold Gimli’s hand. The hobbits seemed to remember the way they’d come and cheerfully led the group through the woods. Boromir followed behind them, leaving Legolas and Gimli to meander at the rear.

“Legolas,” Gimli said, tugging him to a stop. Legolas smiled down at him and waited for the dwarf to go on. “I meant what I said, earlier. I don’t think there’ll be anyone else like you.”

“I know, Gimli,” he replied softly, running a hand through the dwarf’s damp hair. “I believe that as well.”

“That there’s no one else for me but you, or that there’s no one else for you but me?” Gimli grinned. Legolas rolled his eyes and rapped Gimli on the head.

“Both,” he answered with a smile.

Gimli pressed a kiss to Legolas’ hand. “Good. But that said, I understand if, hmph, you want to wait. As it were.”

For once, Legolas was the one who blushed. “I would prefer that. If that’s all right.”

“Of course!” Gimli said gruffly. “Not the sort of ring--thing, I mean, that you rush. We can’t go anywhere till the Lady lets us anyway.”

“We’ve got time,” Legolas agreed, for he understood what Gimli was trying to say. “It will give the others time to get their comments out of the way before we have to set out again.”

Gimli groaned and they resumed walking. “If they get on my nerves too much, I’ll challenge them all to arm wrestling.”

“I’m sure that would silence them.”

“Of course it would! I’ve been known to break arms during matches.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t break our friends’ arms.”

Gimli grumbled himself into silence and they caught up with their companions, hands still clasped. Even when they began hearing and even seeing other elves, Legolas held onto Gimli. Faelor had told him that some of the Galadhon were talking about his relationship with Gimli, but if they were already discussing it, he saw no reason to hide it. Not when they’d declared their feelings so strongly.

When they arrived at their campsite, Sam was cooking something that smelled truly enticing. He didn’t look up as Merry and Pippin crowded around him, asking questions about supper. Frodo was seated on a stool not far from Sam, but he did not react to their return at all until Gimli said his name.

“Oh, hello,” Frodo said, looking around to smile wanly at them. Then he saw that Legolas was holding Gimli’s hand. His face looked utterly surprised. “What’s this?” he demanded, moving to stand by Sam.

“What?” asked Merry, looking where Frodo pointed at the couple. “Oh, that. Come on, Frodo, don’t act that shocked.”

“Oh, you’re telling me you predicted that an elf and a dwarf would--would--” Frodo stuttered for words.

“Hook up?” Pippin suggested, and again Legolas felt himself blush. He thought Gimli might let go of him, but he actually held on tighter.

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes!” Frodo continued to look astounded. “I never thought Gimli would get close to any elf, let alone Legolas.”

“Who’s getting close to Legolas?” Aragorn’s voice arrived in their camp before he did, but he followed soon after, once more looking tired. He halted in his tracks when he saw what they were all looking at, but where Frodo and the others had shown surprise, Aragorn lit up with pleasure. “Ah! I thought as much!”

“Bones of my fathers,” Gimli muttered, crossing to sit down on a log and dragging Legolas with him. 

Merry and Pippin launched into the story of how they’d walked up to see the two of them kissing. Legolas wanted to hide his face in his hands--he’d never done anything affectionate in front of anyone before--but Gimli’s tight hold on his hand kept him sitting straight. It helped that Aragorn looked absolutely overjoyed at the news that Legolas and Gimli were together. Legolas saw that the ranger wanted to ask more questions, but he seemed to realize that Legolas felt burningly awkward and kept his tongue.

“Tomorrow,” Gimli said under his breath to Legolas. “Wherever we go, they aren’t coming with us.”

“Agreed,” Legolas replied, smiling despite his embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely unintentionally called Gimli a dwarf star. I swear it was an accident, just a really really great accident.
> 
> Also the 'ring' 'thing' mix-up was genuine. My fingers typed ring without thinking, so I left it in.


	8. A Gift

The next few days, Gimli and Legolas were not often in the camp. They spent much of their time wandering through Lothlorien, occasionally returning to the cave and pond, and talked of many things. Gimli went into more detail about Erebor, and how it had been improved since Thorin’s quest. Legolas gently urged him to talk about Moria, hoping that to talk about the lost kingdom would ease the pain Gimli felt for it. In return, Gimli asked Legolas about his memories of Gandalf. He hadn’t known the wizard very well, and his respect for the lost man, or wizard, or whatever he’d been, deepened as Legolas shared his experiences. 

When not moving past their grief together, they engaged in other, more intimate forms of communication. Gimli could tell that much of what they were sharing was new to Legolas, but parts of it felt new to Gimli as well. He’d had few relationships before this, and nothing as strong as now. Every touch, every sensation he felt more deeply than he’d thought possible, and it only deepened his belief that there could be no one after Legolas. There wouldn’t even be an “after Legolas.”

As their time in Lorien passed, Gimli wanted to bring up marriage again. True, it was never something he’d considered for himself, but every so often it would be all he could think of. Legolas had said he wanted time, and Gimli knew that it was an easy thing to give, but the idea that he could bind himself to Legolas, could weave their lives into one, appealed to him so strongly that soon he was thinking of it every day.

One week into their stay in Lorien, Gimli was on his own. Legolas had been lured away with some of the Galadhrim with the promise of an archery contest. Though Legolas had wanted Gimli to come along, he still didn’t feel perfectly comfortable around other elves. So he watched as Legolas went off into the woods with a chattering group of elves and set to wandering around the elven city. Legolas had shown him parts of it in the last few days, but as they spent most of their time in the surrounding woods there was a lot he hadn’t seen. 

Most of the elves he passed nodded politely to him, though there were a handful who ignored him completely. Whether this was due to his being a dwarf or his relationship with Legolas, Gimli didn’t know, but he ground his teeth and chose not to care. In choosing to ignore the elves around him however, Gimli was soon lost.

He was not anywhere he recognized, and the trees around him bore no signs of the  _ talan _ that marked inhabitants. He sighed, resigned now to wander through the woods until he found another elf or until Legolas got worried and came to find him.

Gimli kept walking though, figuring that he’d rather be lost and explore than be lost and do nothing. The trees here seemed older than the ones closer to the city, and many were already losing their leaves to the oncoming winter. Their trunks were darker gray, as though they rarely saw the sun, and were spaced close together.

As he craned his neck to look for a gap in the canopy, his boot scuffed on stone and then he was tumbling forward, leaves crunching as he tossed them into the air with his flailing limbs. He came to rest flat on the ground, leaves poking into his face and beard. Grumbling curses, he picked himself up and started to brush away the debris that was caught in his hair.

“What brings you here, Gimli, son of Gloin?” a low voice called from behind him.

He spun around, hands flying to his belt where his axes still didn’t hang. In his walk and subsequent tumble, he had somehow missed her.

Lady Galadriel, tall and radiant, practically glowing in the dim light of the forest, was standing a few feet from him with a silver pitcher in hand.

Gimli felt himself blushing at how she was seeing him. Legolas had said that Galadriel was ancient, having seen things that no longer existed. He hadn’t known or understood anything about her when they’d arrived in Lothlorien, but now that he was seeing her with the knowledge of her importance he felt small. And clumsy. And dirty.

“Oh, hrmm, forgive me, lady, I didn’t know I was close to anyone out here,” he stammered, still trying to brush bits of leaf and dirt from his beard.

“Legolas is elsewhere today, then,” she said, moving past him and into the little clearing. Gimli saw now that there was a fountain in the middle of it, the tinkling of the water so obvious that he didn’t know how he’d missed it.

“Aye, lady,” Gimli nodded, before hesitating. Legolas had mentioned that some of the Galadhrim were talking about their relationship. Would the Lady object to his face?

“Your relationship with Legolas does not offend me, Gimli,” Galadriel said, and again Gimli was struck with the suspicion that she could read his mind. “Though there has never been such a bond between elf and dwarf before, this does not mean that it is wrong now.”

Galadriel approached the fountain and dipped the silver pitcher beneath the water’s surface, emerging with glistening droplets falling from the rim. Gimli watched, enraptured though he couldn’t say why.

“So you’re not going to tell me to stay with my own kind.”

Galadriel turned to smile at him, gently cradling the pitcher of water. With the silver so close to her long hair, he saw that the gleaming light of both matched, though her hair also contained elements of gold.

“Kind is irrelevant when it comes to matters of the heart,” she said gently, towering over him. “The love of Beren and Luthien could not be stopped by the obstacles that lay in their path. Without their union, my daughter would not have found love, and my granddaughter would not have been.”

“Granddaughter?” Gimli knew next to nothing about elvish heritage.

She smiled at him again. “Arwen is my granddaughter,” she explained. “And in her lives some of Luthien’s spirit as well.”

Gimli watched as Galadriel moved on from the fountain and approached a shallow basin further in the clearing. He followed her, guessing that she was not yet done with him. As she spoke, his prejudices against the Lady of the Wood fell away, and he realized that Lady Galadriel was far more than he’d been led to believe.

“This,” Galadriel said as she poured the pitcher into the basin. “Is a mirror. If you choose to look, it can show you past, present, and even what may come.”

He startled, and his eyes swept to the lady’s face. “Magic?” he asked cautiously, his people’s tales suddenly returning to him.

“Of a kind,” she smiled. “But it is nothing like the  _ naugrim _ speak of. Though you may see what you would rather not, the magic of the mirror cannot affect you. Instead, it is your choices that affect what you see.”

“What if I don’t want to look?” Would she force him?

“This is a decision you may make for yourself, Gimli, son of Gloin.”

The lady fell silent as Gimli stared hard at the basin. He didn’t understand how it worked. Elvish magic, to be sure, but...she said it was not dangerous. Dangerous to his mind, perhaps, if he interpreted her words correctly, but what dwarf would allow such a threat to stand?

“I will look,” Gimli declared, stepping up to the mirror and using a stone beside it to gain a better vantage over the water’s surface.

Galadriel said nothing as he glared down into the basin. What would he see? Would he even see anything, since he was not an elf? 

He watched the water for several moments, waiting for something to appear. A breeze rippled the surface, and suddenly he saw himself. He recognized the surroundings as Rivendell, where Elrond’s council had been held. Gimli watched as his past self shouted at Legolas, anger and distrust filling his face. Then passed a succession of moments from the fellowship’s journey thus far, most of which consisted of himself casting loaded glances at the elf. Gimli wanted to look away, to forget his behavior toward Legolas before Lothlorien. But then the scene shifted to the pond Legolas had shown him, and he flushed to see the intimacy they’d shared from an outside perspective. The mirror moved on however, and now Gimli did not recognize what it showed him. He saw himself and Legolas running, fighting side by side, shouting to each other through pouring rain, walking together in a dark forest and then in beautiful, glittering caves. He saw a white city from far off as he and Legolas sat beside a river. He saw them at Erebor, then in a wood-carved room he didn’t know. What felt like an eternity later, he saw Legolas beside a white boat, leading him onto its deck. He saw the sun blazing over a wide expanse of water, as he and Legolas sat in the boat, hands clasped as they sailed forward. There was a flash of white, and then green.

And then the mirror went dark.

Gimli stumbled back, limbs stiff and his heart racing. Images flashed in his head, replaying what he’d seen, but he already felt them slipping away and realized that, like the water in the mirror, he could not hold onto them. All he was able to focus on was the love he felt for Legolas now, and how that love would remain with him till the end of his days.

Shaking slightly at all he’d realized, Gimli turned to Galadriel and saw that she was watching him carefully, an expression he couldn’t distinguish on her face.

“Did--did you see what I saw?” he asked, wiping his forehead and finding sweat there.

“Not all,” Galadriel said gravely. “But you have a long road ahead of you, Gimli. If all continues as the mirror foresees, you will find a wonder that many have died for.”

“What?” Already he’d forgotten much of what he’d seen, only holding onto Legolas.

“That I will not say.” Galadriel shook her head and stepped up to the basin, running a hand around its edge. After some moments of silence, she looked up at him and smiled. “You will know happiness, Gimli, son of Gloin. That much I feel confident to say.”

“Because of Legolas,” Gimli whispered, feeling the truth of his words deep inside him. Galadriel smiled wider, and he felt a surge of gratitude for her. “Thank you, my lady, for this gift. I had thought that what I wanted was real, and now I know that it is.”

“You would have known it sooner or later,” she told him, coming to stand before him. She bent down and kissed his forehead, lips cool as metal. Her hair smelt of grass and rain as it fell around his face. 

His eyes closed as he felt joy pass through him, and when he opened them again, Galadriel was gone.


	9. The Contest and What Follows

Legolas felt that he was being tested. The Galadhrim were setting very difficult archery challenges for those who were participating, with Legolas solely representing his own people. Of course, he was also extraordinarily good with his bow and he was outshooting those who had chosen to challenge him.

But every now and then, if he made a less than perfect shot, he would hear snickers from those watching. When he glanced their direction though, he saw no sign of a guilty face.

Faelor had been one of the elves who had initially invited him to shoot with them. The elf wasn’t a good archer himself, but his partner was excellent. Her name was Talindra, and Legolas wondered if she wasn’t the best archer the Galadhrim had. She was almost as good as himself.

Almost.

When the only archers remaining were Legolas, Talindra, and two others, another elf--whom Legolas suspected of laughing at him--stepped forward with a smile.

“Well done, Greenleaf,” the elf said. Legolas recalled Faelor introducing him as Maglath. “Truly, the skills of our Laiquendi cousins have not been exaggerated.”

“Thank you, Maglath,” Legolas said politely. “The Galadhrim are greatly skilled as well, particularly Talindra.” He nodded toward the elf who bowed her head to him in turn.

“Would you care for a rest before finishing the challenge?” Maglath asked with an odd note in his voice. “Or are you able to carry on?”

Faelor, who was standing just behind Maglath, winced at the other elf’s words. Legolas’ eyes flicked between the two and wondered if Maglath was one of those whom Faelor had said were gossiping about him and Gimli. He fought the urge to square his shoulders defensively.

“I am ready when the other archers are,” Legolas answered, meeting Maglath’s gaze steadily. He guessed that Maglath had some new challenge in store.

As Maglath’s companions set up the next targets, Faelor approached Legolas and gestured for him to bend close.

“I believe you have already figured out that Maglath intends something ill,” Faelor muttered quietly so only Legolas could hear.

“His thoughts are loud,” Legolas admitted, watching Maglath talk with his friends. “Do you know what he means to do?”

Faelor shook his head. “Only that he hopes you will lose this contest.”

“Why?”

Faelor’s expression was enough to answer his question. Because of Gimli.

Legolas sighed. He knew that his relationship with Gimli was strange to many and offensive to some. There had never, in the history of his people, been love between elves and dwarves, let alone the love he felt for Gimli.

“Is he offended generally or personally?” Legolas asked.

Faelor shrugged. “I couldn’t say. I haven’t heard that his interest in you ran to the personal, so I guess that it is more an issue with the dwarf than anything else.”

“And if I lose, he’ll suggest that it is my relationship with Gimli that caused my skill to fail?”

“Probably.”

Legolas shook his head and handed Faelor his quiver without a word before taking his place beside Talindra.

“Good luck, Legolas,” she said, offering her arm. He clasped it gratefully.

“And to you,” he replied with feeling. He did like Talindra, after all.

“Are the contestants ready?” Maglath asked, and the four archers nodded. “Wonderful. This challenge should prove especially difficult. In fact, if this is the round that makes the winner I would not be surprised.” He gestured through the trees and in the distance, perhaps 500 feet, Legolas could see a small round mirror hanging in a  _ mallorn _ . Between their position and the mirror were dozens of branches, large and small, with the occasional gently floating leaf detaching from a limb. It was certainly the hardest shot they’d been set yet.

“My luck to all of you!” Maglath said with a grin, but his eyes were fixed on Legolas.

First to attempt the shot was Amrynn, a relatively short elf whose dark hair was knotted at the nape of their neck. They drew their arrow, held it in place for several quiet moments, and released, only for the arrow to knock into a branch that swayed in the breeze.

There were groans from the crowd of Galadhrim, but Amrynn shrugged gamely and wished the rest of them luck as they went to join their friends.

Talindra went next, tossing her thick red braid behind her as she took her stance. Legolas hoped that she would succeed, as to make such a shot would be worth great praise. But even as she drew back and released, Legolas realized that she would not hit her mark. The wind was not with her, and before it had gone half the distance it was blown off course. 

She faced him with a grimace but then smiled. “My luck to you, cousin,” she said before moving to stand beside Faelor who patted her back.

Lamiryl moved into position before Legolas could, bracing her long limbs as she knocked an arrow. She was tall even for an elf, and Legolas thought it might give her an advantage on the shot. But like the other two, Lamiryl’s arrow was swept off course by the obstacles, though hers did get furthest of them all.

“Well shot!” Maglath called as he and the others applauded Lamiryl. Turning to Legolas, he said, “And now for Legolas.”

The applause for Lamiryl faded away and they all watched as Legolas turned to consider his target. The distance was far, near the end of the range of his bow. The wind through the  _ mallorn _ was mostly steady in its northerly course, but occasionally there was a gust to the east, sending the leaves swirling through the air. There was no clear shot from where he stood; the branches shook erratically, with no discernible pattern. Legolas took a few paces to his right and left, gauging which direction offered the best vantage. As he analyzed his possibilities, and took longer than the other three elves, muttering voices came from behind him. He ignored them, directing all his focus on the target.

It took him a few seconds of staring to realize that it was a trick. The small mirror was so far away that it was certainly a challenge, but as he looked at it he caught the faintest flicker of blue in its reflection. He squinted, striving to catch that glimpse again. He did, and saw that while the mirror was  _ a  _ target, it was not  _ the  _ target. Pinned to the trunk opposite the mirror was a thin blue ribbon. He would not have seen it at all if the gusts of wind hadn’t drawn out the knot in which it was tied.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. The muttering behind him ceased as the Galadhrim noticed the change in his stance. When he turned, they were all watching him. Maglath looked particularly smug.

“Faelor, my quiver?”

Faelor came forward and held the quiver out to Legolas, who took out another arrow.

“You only have one shot,” Maglath said with narrowed eyes. Legolas only smiled and turned back to the trees.

He drew a breath.

He nocked the first arrow.

He sighted.

He released the first arrow.

He immediately nocked the second arrow and fired after the first, then watched as the second arrow pushed past the first. The second arrow struck the mirror, while the first was sent sideways. It clattered against the tree facing the mirror, and Legolas watched as it tumbled down to the ground with a blue ribbon drifting after it.

He turned to Maglath, who looked completely shocked as the other elves cheered wildly. Several broke into song and Faelor and Talindra came to his side, clapping his back.

“You’ve certainly foiled his scheme, Legolas,” Faelor said, grinning widely as another elf ran up to hand him his two arrows and the blue ribbon.

Some of the jubilance quieted as Maglath came to stand before Legolas, a smile forced onto his face. “Well shot, Legolas Greenleaf,” he said with a good impression of cheerfulness. “It cannot be said that the Laiquendi lack skill in archery.”

Legolas thought for an instant of addressing Maglath’s prejudices but decided that the elf wasn’t worth the trouble. “Thank you, Maglath. And thank you all for making myself and my companions so welcome in Caras Galadhon.”

Most of the elves around him cheered, though there were a handful that remained silent as they turned away from the gathering.

Legolas did his best to ignore them. Whatever they thought of him and Gimli, enough of them knew that it didn’t really matter.

* * *

Legolas returned to the city with Faelor and Talindra, who were sharing stories of other contests they’d held among the Galadhrim. He was pleased that they were making a point of accepting him, as Faelor’s words in the kitchen had been silently dogging his steps since that day.

They were perhaps ten minutes from his fellowship’s camp when they heard a crashing sound from the undergrowth to their right. As they paused to listen, Legolas recognized the panting that accompanied those sounds.

“Ah, that is Gimli,” Legolas said with a faint blush. “Excuse me.” He bowed to the two elves and they walked on, exchanging amused glances, though they did not seem malicious. Legolas turned to wait patiently as Gimli fought through the brush, and eventually the dwarf stumbled out of a bramble and caught sight of him.

“Legolas!” he shouted, flinging himself toward the elf and pulling him down into an embrace. Confused, but not displeased, Legolas wrapped his arms around the dwarf.

“Whatever has happened to you, Gimli?” he asked, pulling back and seeing that Gimli had all sorts of leaves and twigs in his hair.

“The Lady showed me things--” Gimli said quickly, seizing Legolas’ face. “But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that I  _ know _ now, I know with all my heart--that is, I already knew but of course it’s good to have these things confirmed, for it wouldn’t do to make a mistake in this--”

“Gimli, slow down!” Legolas urged, kneeling before Gimli and combing his fingers through the dwarf’s beard. It really was quite full of leaves. “What are you talking about?”

“Marry me,” Gimli said breathlessly, and Legolas’ fingers stilled in the tangled red hair. Gimli’s eyes were fiercely bright and he gripped the elf’s hands. “I understand what I’m asking of you--mostly. To bind yourself to me, and I to you, for the rest of our lives, which in your case will be quite long, to be sure. But I know that this is what we have to do.”

“What we  _ have _ to do?” Legolas’ voice was faint in his ears.

“Aye, laddie,” Gimli whispered, hands soft on the elf’s. “I know I was an arse when we first met, and I’ve said some very stupid things, but this--” He put a hand on Legolas’ chest. “This is where I belong. With you. Always.”

“Lady Galadriel told you this?”

“She didn’t tell me, she just--showed me.” Gimli looked like he was thinking of how to explain. “Most of it is gone now. We will fight together, and--and walk through forests and caves together, even sail together, though why we’d do that I don’t know.” An impossible dream bloomed in Legolas’ mind. Impossible. “What I remember most is that how I feel about you will never change, as long as I live.”

Legolas stared at Gimli, the face that he had come to love so quickly. It seemed so strange that he should find him now, on a journey that could end them both, but he understood that what he felt for Gimli he likely wouldn’t feel for anyone else. And if Galadriel had showed Gimli that one day they would sail together… There could be only one explanation, and only one course of action.

“When?”

* * *

Legolas and Gimli chose to complete their union without ceremony. They returned to the cave and pond that day, choosing their first place of love to be the one they would forever associate with their marriage. Hours passed, during which they shared the love they felt. There would be more to give in the future, with more time and more comfort, but it was enough to be together and know that they would be that way for many years to come.

Both agreed that a ring was impractical. Legolas worried it would throw off his archery, and Gimli, normally a great enjoyer of jewelry, thought it would weaken his grip on his axes. Others wouldn’t know they were married, but they agreed it was for the best. Neither wanted to have to discuss their relationship with just anyone who asked.

The next morning they returned to their campsite, hunger drawing them out. They hoped they would return to the cave one day, but Legolas sadly felt it was the last time either of them would see it.

Aragorn was awake when they arrived, and judging from the empty bedrolls the others were up and about as well. Probably fetching breakfast.

Aragorn smiled. “Good morning, you two. Where were you yesterday?”

“Do you think you can keep something to yourself?” Gimli grunted abruptly, and Legolas looked down at him in slight alarm.

“You’re married?” Aragorn asked shrewdly, casting a knowing look at Legolas who blushed.

“Aye,” Gimli nodded as he sat on a log and pulled Legolas down with him. “But don’t spread it around.”

“Of course not, my friends.” Aragorn looked positively delighted. “I take it you won’t be wearing rings?”

Legolas shook his head. “Too disruptive.”

“To combat  _ and  _ personal life,” Gimli added. “But shush, the hobbits are returning.”

Aragorn gave them one last look of glee, and settled down to drinking his tea again as the hobbits crashed into the clearing. Merry and Pippin seemed to be in very high spirits, while Frodo--and therefore Sam--were more subdued. But Frodo at least looked less miserable than before.

“There you two are!” Pippin called when he spotted Legolas and Gimli. “We wondered where you’d gone off to.”

“I told you where they were, Pip,” Merry murmured to his friend, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “But it’s not polite to mention such things.”

Pippin looked like he wanted to argue, but Sam bustled forward and announced, “We’re having soup for dinner!”

The hobbits started to bicker about what each of them wanted in the soup. Aragorn participated a little, though he still sent glances toward where Legolas and Gimli sat close beside each other. Gimli finally had to insert his own opinion into the soup discussion, and Legolas watched as his lover--his husband, debated the qualities of elven potatoes with four hobbits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is basically an elf version of fox Robin Hood. You're welcome.


	10. Epilogue

Legolas sat in the rear of the small boat, staring at the back of Gimli’s head as they paddled down the Anduin. They had left Lorien some hours ago, and each of them had been quiet most of the time, wrapped in thought.

When Legolas heard Gimli sigh, he smiled.

“What is it, Gimli?”

The dwarf started and almost dropped his oar. He recovered and dipped it into the river, but soon stopped rowing again.

“I’m just thinking of the Lady’s gift,” he finally answered, not turning around.

Legolas was silent for a few moments, feeling the occasional spray of water on his face. “What was it?” He watched as Gimli squirmed in his seat and laughed. “Come on, tell me.”

“I asked her for a single hair from her golden head,” Gimli mumbled into his beard, but Legolas heard him clearly. The dwarf tipped his face to the sky, oar limp in his hands. “She gave me three.”

Legolas suddenly remembered a tale his father had once told him, about the Lady Galadriel. It was said that her hair contained the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, lost forever to the world. Once, a great elvish craftsman had asked Galadriel for strands of her lighted hair, but she had refused him.

And yet she gave Gimli, a dwarf, three.

Legolas smiled.

“Why did you want it?” he wondered aloud.

“It is because of her that we are married,” Gimli explained, turning around to smile at his husband. “Had we not come to Lorien, and had she not let me look into the mirror, we may never have become one.”

Legolas laid his oar across his lap and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Gimli’s.

“I love you, Gimli, son of Gloin,” he said softly.

The dwarf pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and he heard the smile in Gimli’s voice when he replied, “And I you, Legolas.”

And onward they continued, down the waters that led to the sea, the sea which held a dream that Legolas would rarely allow himself to dream.

A dream that would one day come to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY GO TO VALINOR TOGETHER. Seriously, it's the sweetest, most lovely thing I've ever heard of and it's what finished building my ship.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading this! I love this couple so very much and it was delightful to write out how I imagined them spending their time in Lorien. Much love to you all <3


End file.
